


Bite Me Harder (I Hate the Suburbs, But I Hate You More)

by NotALemon



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Don't Be Like Mac and Dennis Okay, Dysfunctional Relationships, Episode: s11e05 Mac & Dennis Move to the Suburbs, Implied Rough Sex, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Explicit Sex, Sex and Unhealthy Dynamics, Sex as a Form of Communication, The Sex Isn't So Much Implied As It Is "Fade to Black", This is Literally Just About Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, You Know What That Means Folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-26 23:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21108944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotALemon/pseuds/NotALemon
Summary: Or, Mac and Dennis Move to the Suburbs, as told through non-explicit sex.





	Bite Me Harder (I Hate the Suburbs, But I Hate You More)

Dennis believes wholeheartedly in the concept of christening a new house (apartment, abode, shelter, whatever) with sex on every surface. So that’s what they do in the new house. They’ve only been able to fuck in Dee’s apartment when she’s gone, which, most of the time, is when they’re gone, too, all at Paddy’s. It’s never really felt like home. 

So yeah, they can fuck in either of the two beds, and the couches, and against the countertops, and in the shower, and against the walls, and on the floor, and in the pool, and in every room of the fucking house, and it’s so fucking good after the one to two times a week they’ve been having in Dee’s house. It’s their own space now. MacandDennis’ house. Fuck yeah. 

“We don’t need to fuck on every counter, man,” Mac says, though Dennis has already pinned him against the counter with his hips. 

“If we don’t fuck all over the place, it isn’t ours.” Dennis grinds against Mac’s ass and runs his hands down Mac’s front, grabbing his dick through his jeans. “So stop being a pussy and let me fuck you.” 

Mac doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s getting ass. Some good, good ass, courtesy of Dennis, and getting his ass pounded by Dennis, too. This is better than Dee’s apartment by a long shot, the greatest thing to ever happen to them. They live alone, and Mac can moan Dennis’ name as loud as he wants, and they’re going to win this fucking bet, no problem. 

-

Okay, there are issues. They’re cracking, hard. Mac has his fucking smoke alarm, and Dennis has his fucking pool filter, and there’s the Old Man they have to deal with if they lose the bet, and _what is up with the fucking hats?_. 

The sex has stopped. Slowed down. What the fuck ever. The fucking _sex_. Dennis has stopped whoring around the house, started dressing after his showers, but everything’s okay. Yeah. Yeah, everything’s okay. 

Everything’s okay because they talked it out, okay, and Dennis got Mac a dog: Dennis Jr. Their so-called “child”, as according to Mac. 

“I think,” Dennis says, full of meaning, “I deserve a ‘thank you’ for the dog.” 

“You’re dressed for work,” Mac points out, Dennis Jr. pulled close to him.

Dennis crosses his arms and gives Mac a disappointed look. He knows it’ll work. It always works. 

Mac looks in his eyes, guilt filling his entire body, and slides from the couch to the floor, uzipping Dennis’ jeans and taking his dick in his mouth so pretty Dennis can’t stop the _fuck yes, baby boy_s and other compliments from spilling out his mouth. He gets to work late, but he’s so fucked out he doesn’t bitch for a quarter of the commute. 

-

Fucking smoke detector. 

Dennis fucks Mac so hard he almost loses his voice from screaming. Fucking _Wally_ must be able to hear him yelling Dennis’ name, the rest of the _Gang_ has to hear them, but Mac can still hear the chirp of the smoke detector the entire time.

Fucking dog. 

The sounds the bed makes as Dennis fucks him sounds way too much like the sound the fucking dog makes against his bowl. It makes Mac’s erection flag, but then Dennis growls out a _so hot, baby boy_, and it comes back, full-force. 

Fucking mind-numbing suburban boredom. 

Dennis is so fucking bored with this vanilla-ass bed sex, but Mac hasn’t unpacked their kinky shit. So Dennis fingers Mac until he begs, until he sobs for God (the Golden God, Dennis), and then fucks Mac until he can’t go anymore as punishment. 

Fucking pool filter. 

Dennis creeps into Mac’s bed and fucks him at night to distract him from the fucking pool filter running all night. Even Mac’s screams can’t cover it up. 

Fucking traffic. 

Dennis lets Mac into the Range Rover once, and that’s to fuck him doggy-style in the backseat. The next day, it smells like cum, smells like sweat, and Mac’s cries of _Dennis, Dennis, Dennis_ muffled against the leather ring in his ears as he yells at the other commuters. 

Fucking Wally. 

Dennis beats the shit out of Mac while thinking of Wally. Smacks his face and ass, bites and scratches him so hard he draws blood, makes tears fill Mac’s eyes, says it’s hot as he licks them away, and Mac almost believes it.

Fucking Mac’s World Famous Mac ‘n Cheese. 

Dennis hates, fucking _hates_, that he can taste that fucking mac ‘n cheese when he sticks his tongue in Mac’s mouth. Mac whines that Dennis won’t kiss him anymore. 

Fucking no fucking. 

Dennis fucks Mac so hard Mac can hardly move from the bed, and then can’t move from the counter, and then doesn’t fuck him for three more days until Mac gets on his knees and blows Dennis before work. His jaw hurts the whole day, and his ass the next. 

Fucking suburbs. 

Where’s the excitement? The fear of neighbors hearing? The fear of Dee seeing? Where’s the noise? Where’s the crazy shenanigans and other bullshit? 

Fuck the fucking suburbs. 

They hate it. They hate it so fucking much it’s uneblievable.

Fuck this bet. 

They’d rather sleep with the Old Man than with each other right now. 

-

Mac thinks Dennis really is going to kill Wally with that fire poker. Dennis does, too, filled with suburban rage. He slams Dennis against the wall like Dennis did the first day there and rolls their hips together.

“Fuck,” Dennis says. He tangles his hands in Mac’s hair, dropping the fire poker off to the side with a clang. 

Mac seals his mouth against Dennis’, covering up his moan. “Don’t kill Wally,” he says. 

“Don’t ever say Wally’s name again,” Dennis says, rolling his pelvis against Mac’s. It's a threat, somehow, somewhere. 

“_Dennis_,” Mac moans, instead. “_Dennis, Dennis_.” He gets a hint frantic, remembering that- “Dennis, Wally’s at the door. We can’t-” 

Dennis imagines biting Mac’s throat and ripping out his vocal chords. He pulls himself away from Mac, leaving him hard and confused, and picks up his fire poker. “I’m killing Wally.” He launches into a primal scream, a mimic of his hallucination. 

“Dennis!” Mac peels himself off the wall, grabbing Dennis’ shoulders as he opens the door. 

It’s the rest of the Gang, staring at them with shit-eating grins. 

Frank hands Mac the check. “You almost won the bet. Rent for a year.” 

Mac nearly leans into kiss Dennis, stick his tongue down Dennis’ throat and fuck him against the wall in celebration, right in front of the entire Gang. He stops himself, but just barely. “We almost won the bet!” 

Dennis beams back at him. “We almost won!” Then, because he’s the perceptive one of the two, he pauses. “Uh, Frank? Where’s this rent for?” Dennis looks at the check, suspicious. The house is the only thing they have. 

“Here!” Frank’s look is simply devious. He knows he’s tricked them. 

Dennis’ hands go white-knuckled on the poker. 

-

Dee and the Old Man are on the California King, blue balling them into oblivion. They get to fuck even less on the bed than they did in Dee’s nasty, ringworm-infested apartment, even though the bed is _so_ much better than Dee’s bed. The best thing they can do is jack each other off while Dee is sleeping and the Old Man is maybe dead, or maybe just sleeping, too. 

“Baby boy,” Dennis whispers into Mac’s ear, clasping a hand over Mac’s mouth to muffle his whimpers. They can make this work. Everything’s okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago, left it in my drafts until it got deleted, remembered it when I heard "Song for a Guilty Sadist" by Crywank, polished it up a bit, and posted it. So, thank Crywank for this.


End file.
